


Slithering

by quinoaquin



Series: Redeemable Series [psychopath!Crowley AU] [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Human AU, Just all the usual warnings for this AU, M/M, Manipulative Crowley (Good Omens), Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinoaquin/pseuds/quinoaquin
Summary: Prompt: Fighting scene where Crowley get to protect Aziraphale from someone and end up with his hands bloody. And his reaction if Aziraphale is injured by the aggressor. How caring/tender will he be toward Aziraphale? How far can his violent thoughts go? + manipulation.Chapter 14 of Unknowable (psychopath!Crowley Redeemable series)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Redeemable Series [psychopath!Crowley AU] [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650787
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Slithering

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Arkhaniel for the prompt!

The long haired man immediately released the smaller trembling figure and twisted around to face Crowley.

Aziraphale scrambled to escape the narrow space between the brute and the wall, cradling his wounded arm as he stumbled sideways until his back hit the corner of the dead end alley. The sleeve of his shirt was already soaked in blood.

"You look like you've made a lot of stupid choices in your life but I think you'll find that this was by far your worst one."

The man's dirtied and unshaven face suddenly looked years younger as fear twisted it's features. He was holding a knife, knuckles white around it, but something about the calmness of Crowley's voice and the look on his face as he stepped closer made the weapon seem suddenly useless.

"Did really think you could put your disgusting, grimy little hands on something like that," Crowley pointed at Aziraphale without taking his eyes off the now cowering man, "and there would be no consequences?"

The man turned to look in the direction Crowley was pointing in, as if unsure what the redhead who had appeared out of no where was referring to, and in the next moment his arm was twisted painfully. His head was slammed against the brick wall, the knife falling out of his hand and hitting the ground at the same time a loud gasp escaped Aziraphale.

With a burn that felt like his skin was being separated from his skull, the scrawny man was pulled back by his hair then slammed again against the wall face first. Once, twice, three times.

"For God's sake, Crowley!"

Crowley twisted the man around again, pressing him against the wall by his throat and leaning close to look into his eyes.

Crowley didn't look angry. He didn't really _feel_ angry, though that probably made little difference to the trembling bloodied man before him as he struggled to breathe, his view blurry and red tinted from the blood in his eyes. No, he wasn't angry, he just wanted to erase this revolting insect from existence and scrub his angel's body clean until he reached bone.

He swayed on his feet suddenly as he thought about what was probably a knife wound on Aziraphale's arm. It would leave a scar. He felt the muscles on his face twitch as he squeezed harder, his fingers digging into the sides of the man's neck, palm pushing painfully against his windpipe. Crowley raised his other hand and the man bellowed as his broken nose was pressed into his face.

"Crowley, stop it now!"

He removed his hand and leaned in closer still, anger slowly evaporating and being replaced with a wide-eyed curiosity as panicked but already weak guttural sounds escaped the bruised man, his convulsing throat almost caressing Crowley's palm. The incredible sensations were spoiled only by the stench coming off the filthy bastard, but even that only served as a reminder to Crowley that he could break his windpipe right now and nobody would really care. Society didn't want this man. He could just bash his entire body in with a rock until he was indistinguishable from a heap of mincemeat and watch as starved stray dogs fed on him.

Crowley licked his dry lips absentmindedly and pressed harder. His eyes stung as he stared unblinkingly, taking quick sharp breaths through his nose as his heart drummed in excited anticipation.

"Please stop," came the soft voice again. Crowley would not have heard it had it not been accompanied by the sudden light touch around his wrist.

He turned to the side, suddenly face to face with his angel.

"My God, Crowley, please, let him go, let him go, you're killing him, please-" The voice wasn't soft at all, it was hysterical, and the touch wasn't gentle, it was shaking him and pulling urgently.

"Angel," Crowley said, sounding dazed and a little surprised. "Angel, what is it?"

The man beneath him began to struggle desperately to draw in raspy breaths after Crowley had unintentionally loosened his grip, gasping and wheezing against his ear. Crowley cringed and twisted to face the man again with a spike of anger and disgust, fully extending his arm so that the rotting breath couldn't reach him, and finally bringing his other hand from where he was holding the man by his shoulder to join the other around his throat.

His stomach filled with butterflies when he decided to give one last press and twist. But just as his fingers went to curl, his head was suddenly caught between two warm palms and jerked to the side in one quick motion.

And just like that, the stench was gone, replaced by the smell of his angel's skin. He breathed it in, only one long, slow inhale before his breath caught in his throat. The angel's soft lips rested gently against his own, and he let go of the bloodied man, hands falling limp to his side.

Whimpers and painfully hoarse sounding coughs echoed off the tall walls of the alley as the pair of them stood there almost still as a statue, lips barely touching, and Aziraphale's grip on Crowley's face so strong his jaw ached. Crowley brought his hand up to cover Aziraphale's, the blood that covered his fingers making them run smoothly over the meat and bones of his angel's knuckles. It was as perfect of a moment as Crowley could possibly dream up.

But then he remembered whose filthy blood he was spreading over the angel's skin, and his eyes flew open. He went to pull his head back but Aziraphale held on, tightening his grip. Crowley could see his eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were suddenly trembling, but then the pressure increased and suddenly they parted and covered his own. That was all it took to force a loud moan out of Crowley, and Aziraphale flinched back, releasing him.

One step backwards for Aziraphale, two forward for Crowley, and they were pressed against the wall and each other, Crowley's face buried in the crook of his neck as he kissed and licked and nuzzled. God, it was so _different_ , Crowley had never touched skin like this before, Aziraphale really was some sort of angelic being and he just kept bloody letting Crowley _have_ him, let him do things that shouldn't ever be done to angels, like hurting them or rubbing against them in a dirty alley as you breathe in the dizzying smell of their open wound. Aziraphale's hands were pushing against his chest and Crowley pushed back, raising his hands to press the angel's shoulders back, then running them down the smaller man's arms.

Crowley nearly bit his own tongue off when Aziraphale's shoulder suddenly jerked, knocking his jaw. He raised his head.

"Crowley, m-my arm," his angel said, looking at him with wide eyes and shaking pitifully in Crowley's hold. "I- I need to go to the hospital."

Crowley dropped his head to the side and stared at the cut barely visible through the torn shirt. "I can do it."

"N-No."

"It's just a cut," he breathed in a strange voice, reaching up to part the shirt with two careful fingers. "I can--"

"I said _no_!" Aziraphale exclaimed, slamming his hands against Crowley's chest hard enough to tip him off balance and send him stumbling two steps back.

Both of them kept the distance as they stared at each other, one confused by the other's anger, one angered by the other's confusion. When Crowley took an unconscious step towards him again, the anger on Aziraphale's face was replaced by fear only for a few moments before his lips pressed back into a determined thin line, and he stomped his foot against the ground.

"Stop it! Can't you see I'm uncomfortable? You're scaring me!"

Crowley flinched visibly. "But we..." his toes curled painfully into the ground as he willed himself to stay where he was and not move any closer to his angel. "You kissed--"

"You were going to _murder_ _him_!" Aziraphale shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the red smudge on the wall near him.

Crowley stared at the dark blood smudges and the memories of everything that had happened suddenly flashed before him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few breaths and swallowed down the acid that threatened to rise up his throat. Was the kiss only meant as some sort of distraction? Crowley glanced around and saw the man was gone. It was true - the kiss wasn't for Crowley at all, it was for the thief. Aziraphale was only trying to save the man Crowley was saving _him_ from. _Of course_ his angel would show mercy even to the undeserving waste of space who had attacked him, tried to steal from him, wasted the precious blood, put his disgusting, filthy, piss-stained paws--

"H-he only... He was just some desperate child, Crowley, he only wanted some money!"

" _Everybody wants money!_ " Crowley spat and immediately cringed at the unkind tone that sounded uncannily like mother's. "He was... He was going to hurt you, angel. He _did_ hurt you."

Aziraphale seemed to deflate slightly at the words and he gave Crowley a sad look. "He didn't deserve a broken face for that."

"No, I know," Crowley said immediately. "Of course. You're right." _He deserved a lot more than that_.

His angel dropped his eyes to the ground. "You weren't going to stop," he said quietly in a shaky voice. "You don't know when to stop."

An angel shedding tears because it found something so unlovable even it couldn't love it. Crowley swallowed and licked his dry lips, staring hard at the blonde man's watery blue eyes and trembling mouth. There was nothing Crowley could do or say to change anything now - what he had done or what he was or how he felt. Or _didn't_ feel. It was true, he wasn't going to stop, and his angel knew that now.

The situation was hopeless and there was no escaping the inevitable.

Unless, of course, you were a _social snake in the grass that slithers and smiles their way in to your life and emotions_ , which - as quoted by his first true love and QEDed by his death - Crowley most certainly was. It was a bit like a superpower sometimes.

And so, he slithered.

"You stopped me though."

Aziraphale looked at him.

"I don't know what I would have done if... I mean, I... only stopped because of you. _For_ you. I would always stop for you. I'm... _better_ when you're around."

He could see Aziraphale's eyes soften with every word and he wondered whether the look would turn into one of love and adoration if he just kept going on and on.

And perhaps he should have, because the moment he stopped talking, the angel frowned and looked back down. "You were in this situation to begin with _because_ of me."

Crowley quickly turned his annoyance into a self-deprecating huff. "I would've gotten into something one way or another, angel, that's not the point."

Aziraphale swallowed uncomfortably but didn't look up.

Crowley looked down at the ground too then, sighing quietly. "And then, you know, the kiss... I thought..." 

"What?" Aziraphale prompted gently and Crowley just shrugged. He could tell by the sound of his voice that Aziraphale was watching him now.

"I guess I just thought you cared about me, is all. But it didn't mean anything, I understand that, you were just..." he shook his head, "It's fine, I get it, it was stupid of me."

He chanced a quick glance at his angel and saw him worrying his bottom lip with a worried frown, eyes darting around. "Crowley, I... Of course I care about you, that's not-"

"And just because I'm so much better when you're around doesn't mean you _have_ to spend time with me, you know, I'm not your responsibility," Crowley continued quickly. "You've already put up with me for so long, I didn't even-"

"I don't _put up_ with you, Crowley! I'll have you know I enjoy our times together immensely!"

Crowley looked at him with hopeful eyes, then grimaced and looked away again. "Yeah, you sure enjoyed yourself tonight," he said almost too quiet for Aziraphale to hear, then waited, staring at his feet in silence.

"Well, it... It did go downhill before you even arrived, so I suppose it's not entirely your fault," Aziraphale said in a forced light tone and Crowley just shrugged before slumping his shoulders even more pathetically. "...A-Actually, I was quite terrified, to be perfectly honest, I thought..." Aziraphale swallowed nervously, trying to still his voice that was still trembling from fear and anger and uncertainty, "I-I thought he was going to kill me. Perhaps he would have. So... thank you."

Crowley raised his head slowly and their eyes met again. Aziraphale gave him a small encouraging smile and Crowley returned a self-deprecating one - the one that used to work like a charm on Anathema back in the day.

"I don't deserve a thank you," he said softly, letting his smile fade away. "I scared you."

Aziraphale bit his lip nervously, lifting his good arm to scratch the back of his neck. "W-Well, I... I do scare so very easily. Everybody says so."

 _You should be scared_ , Crowley thought. _There's people out there who would do just about anything to have you_.

"Let me drive you home. This dirty alley is no place for angels."

Aziraphale blushed. "To the _hospital_ , you mean," he said as they started to walk, Aziraphale keeping much closer to him than Crowley would have expected.

"Yes. To the hospital, that's what I said. I keep telling you, you need to have that checked out by a _real_ doctor, Aziraphale."

He glanced sideways to see his angel roll his eyes and smile bashfully, and Crowley's own lips twitched into a sincere smile.


End file.
